


Atonement

by little Alex (litalex)



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-10
Updated: 2000-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litalex/pseuds/little%20Alex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the nights after Vince's birthday party and before his and Stuart's lunch date</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The men (sorry, can't think of any of them as boys) aren't mine. They belong to Russell Davies, Red Productions, and Channel Four. Lucky bastards.
> 
> Spoiler: Everything and anything in Series One
> 
> Warning: Heavy angst

The door slammed shut and the lights snapped on.

Naked in his bed, Stuart looked up blearily but the opaque glass  
wall blocked his view. "Whoever you are, fuck off." His head  
pounding from his hangover, he was in no mood to deal with visitors,  
especially now, when none of his possible visitors could be Vince.

But that was his own damn fault, wasn't it, that his closest friend  
for fifteen years would never darken his door again? His own damn  
fault that he still had a conscience after all these years; his own  
damn fault that he didn't have the courage to admit his love to the  
one man in the whole huge world whom he actually loved. Only when he  
was completely pissed, like now, where his own conscience had  
refused to listen to him and fuck off, could he admit to himself  
that Vince was right. That this whole mess *was* his fault. Right  
now, all he wanted was to be left alone, with his guilt and  
loneliness, knowing that he deserved nothing better.

His self-invited guest, however, seemed to have other ideas.  
Arriving at the threshold of the alcove quickly, the tall shadow  
turned out to be Cameron. The handsome accountant leaned against  
what one would have to call doorframe and Stuart simply frowned,  
still glaring. "I said, fuck off."

Cameron studied the owner of the flat for a long moment. "Just tell  
me why."

"Why, what?" And why did he answer with a question of his own? He  
didn't want this; he so didn't want this. Playing the blame game  
with Cameron would accomplish nothing, absolutely nothing.

"Not even you can be that much of a bastard. So, why?" Cameron just  
stood there, his expression containing equal amounts of anger and  
puzzlement.

Stuart merely groaned and then sighed. "None of your damn business.  
Now, as I've already said, *fuck* off." Stuart covered his eyes with  
his right arm, trying to fend off the offending light and not  
succeeding. Squinting, he glanced back at his unwelcome visitor. Why  
couldn't the bastard just leave it be? Cameron had gotten what he  
wanted, hadn't he?

"I'm not a fool. You shoved him away right into my arms." Cameron  
regarded Stuart for another moment. "You're a mess."

"Thanks for that lovely comment. Now, for the third time, or fourth,  
*fuck* off." Finally, even the overwhelming headache could not keep  
him from acting out his irritation with the man. He stood up slowly  
and strode toward Cameron, but stopped once he reached the end of  
the bed. "Get out of my home," he ground out, his voice low and deep.

"And here I thought that you've much better vocabulary and  
intelligence than that." Cameron not only didn't obey Stuart's  
words, he also closed the short distance between them until they  
were scant inches apart. Holding Stuart's gaze, Cameron advanced  
still more, obviously expecting to back the other man to the bed  
once again.

Stuart stood his ground, his face completely devoid of animation,  
and felt the pressure of Cameron's body against his own. His hands  
shot up involuntarily to push away the unwelcome heat of the other  
body, but Cameron caught them easily. Stuart immediately froze, his  
absolute hatred of physical violence hindering his usually snap  
responses. A full ten seconds later, he decided to stick to a battle  
of words for the time being. "Let go," he commanded.

Cameron flashed a smile and obeyed the words this time, but also  
wrestled his reluctant host to the bed. Stuart fought back  
instinctively, but abruptly stopped. No, this would *not* come to  
blows. Cameron then took advantage of Stuart's indecision and rolled  
on top of his host. Straddling Stuart's waist, he gripped the  
younger man's hair and pulled it back deliberately. "I asked, why?"

/Because nobody stopped me,/ a small voice piped in, but only in the  
back of Stuart's head. /Because you convinced me that the only man  
who cares enough to have stopped me will be better off with you,  
arsehole./ The Irishman himself, however, only gave his loitering  
guest as chilling a look as he was able when so very much hung over.  
"I said, let go." This time, the words came out as a growl.

Cameron merely grinned. "You're as strong as I am. Fight me off if  
you want to."

The words were technically true. While Stuart, at this moment, was  
in rather bad physical condition, he could still successfully fight  
back if he wanted to. He detested physical fights, however. Brawls  
were for immature brats similar to those in Nathan's school, in his  
own secondary school when he was young, so very young. Never for  
himself. He had always prefer words and, if worse came to worst,  
destruction of the person's belongings, but never fistfights.

Then Cameron's words brought him out of his thoughts. "You know  
exactly what I'm going to do if you don't fight back." A sneer on  
his face, Cameron knelt up and opened his fly with exaggerated care.

Stuart narrowed his eyes minutely. "You won't." But they both knew  
that Cameron would.

"Watch me."

Stuart's only concession to indicate that he had heard the words was  
languidly closing his eyes. He would not be breaking one of his rare  
promises, even one to himself, not now, not ever. And so, this was  
both a gamble and a test: did Cameron truly deserve Vince? When he  
felt the experienced hands on his body, he knew that he had lost the  
gamble, but Cameron was the one who lost the test. A ghost of a  
smile touched Stuart's lips, but the other man bent down and kissed  
it away.

The kiss was deep and brutal: a claim, a declaration of war. Stuart  
finally opened his mouth, returning one just as savage. Despite his  
mind's reluctance, his body was already enjoying this. His series of  
moans could have been a series of 'no's, but he was too committed to  
this particular course of action. Another touch of guilt about Vince  
sliced through his heart, but he did not acknowledged it. He had  
pushed Vince into the arms of this undeserving bastard and, in the  
darkest depths of his heart, he knew he ought to be punished. Right  
now, however, his head still hurt and his body was liking the touch  
of this man. He lay back down again, suddenly too tired to play the  
game, and closed his eyes. Feeling the deft touches, he  
absent-mindedly noted that he had not been this passive in sex  
since... ever, but he had not wanted this man, despite the pass he  
made. The pass was to keep Vince for himself, not because he desired  
this man. The hands were impersonal, but careful. In the midst of  
both emotional pain and physical pleasure, he admitted to himself  
that he desperately wanted the hands to be Vince's, but they only  
belonged to Cameron, the bastard who did not deserve Vince and had  
the gall to hate Stuart. Hatred would have to do right now, for  
hatred was a type of passion, too.

Sounds of a drawer opening and then closing came and passed. Soon,  
cold, lubed fingers entered Stuart almost gently but the gesture was  
too mixed with the inherent coldness of his temporary bedmate to be  
gentle. Stuart immediately knew then that both the lube and the  
condom were for only Cameron's comfort and safety. Stuart did not  
say anything, however, and let the physical sensations carried him  
off. That first jab of Cameron's cock caused Stuart something akin  
to pain, for he had not been in this position for years, but it only  
heightened his pleasure. His body was so used to pleasure that it  
had learned to register every sensation as physically gratifying. He  
let loose another groan and thrust back, his mind hating what his  
body loved. The steady rhythm continued for long minutes, maybe even  
reached a whole hour, until Cameron finally came and collapsed onto  
him. The man then pulled out carelessly, wrenching a groan of pain  
from Stuart. Having rolled over to face the ceiling, Stuart propped  
himself halfway up on his right elbow.

He glanced over to his temporary bedmate and absent-mindedly  
remarked, "Hey, bet I was better than--" Abruptly stopping, he  
flinched, horrified at his own callousness and forgetfulness. Jesus  
Christ, did those words come out of his mouth? He had no more right  
to Vince than this scum of a man.

Still looking at him, Cameron started putting on his clothes. Stuart  
lay back down onto the bed, ashamed that he had allowed the bastard  
to see his moment of weakness and pain. At least Vince did not have  
to console him again, all the while nobly abandoning his own  
concerns for the time. Stuart had not realized how much he relied on  
the sweet kindness of his best mate until these moments. Better then  
to allow only his enemy to see it, someone who would not care, than  
to cause Vince further worries. It would subsume Vince's personality  
again, as he and his problems had always done. These wandering  
thoughts took no more than a second and then he simply had to make sure.

"You won't tell him." It came out a question, not the statement that  
Stuart had intended. He frowned, hating the uncertainty inside him.

"Oh, yes, sure." Cameron looked sideways, obviously pretending to  
greet Vince. "Guess what I did today, Vince. I just fucked your ex  
best friend; you know, the one who fucked you over not so long ago."  
Cameron's gaze landed back on Stuart. "I already knew you're a  
bastard, Stuart, but I didn't know you're also a fool."

Stuart could only smile coldly at that, for he *was* a fool. Why the  
hell was he letting Cameron off like this? Because both Stuart and  
Vince needed that arsehole for an excuse to stay away from each  
other. As Cameron had said, Vince *deserved* that chance to be his  
own man. If Stuart went near his closest friend again, Vince would  
never be the confident adult that he should be. "And you won't hurt  
him." Stuart steadily held his visitor's gaze, his voice now as  
chilling as his smile. "You'll *never* hurt him."

"Hurting him, my," Cameron said, flashing an identical smile,  
"friend, is an honour I reserve for you." He turned away and then  
the man was gone.

Laying his right arm over his forehead, Stuart looked back toward  
the ceiling. His arse was sore and his head still pounded. His body  
was exhausted both by earlier exertions and the just past sex.  
And... and the guilt and loneliness were sweeping him so swiftly  
into an overwhelming pain that he could almost cry, but he knew that  
he would not, because he was never weak. For once in his life,  
however, he wished that he were.

/~~finis~~/


End file.
